Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-05-12 22:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul |
It seems so much is left unsaid, So much is left unsaid.....
Who: Aspel & Ari.
What: A delicate situation.
Where: The Armory/Aspel's apartment.
When: Today!
Rating: PG
Status: COMPLETE!
The initial message had been a few nights prior, and while Aspel hadn’t sincerely believed Ari would be able to come over that night, that… was what Ari had wanted, wasn’t it? For Aspel to voice her desires when she had them? However, now came the question of… well…. what were they supposed to do? Aspel wasn’t sure she could stand to be touched by almost anyone still, and work had taken so much out of her, as it often did of late. At least now, she wasn’t losing hours at a time anymore, clearly, she had started to get… better. Even if better was, well… a matter of debate in some regards. At least she was able to function somewhat normally again, even if having serious conversation with most of her close friends was still… nearly impossible. However, Ari was coming over, and Aspel had…. tried to straighten things up some. The cigarette filters and ashes had been tossed out (not that she could bring herself to even get through a full pack since the middle of last week), windows left open for most of the day, and the trash had been collected and disposed of from the living room. A thought had been given to trying to take care of her bedroom but… at the same time, Aspel wasn’t entirely sure she was quite ready for that…. yet. Regardless, Ari was coming over, Aspel had prepped things as well as her brain could manage (dinner completely forgotten as she tended to only think of food when she was nearly sick with hunger) before situating herself down in The Armory waiting for the other woman to arrive. To say that opening weekend had been draining would have been a gross understatement. Ari had found herself exhausted in a variety of ways by the time Sunday’s second show (Faram, how she’d made it she wasn’t certain) had finally ended. The other cast, crew, and orchestra members were exhausted, too, so she had been able to blend among the zombie-like crowd pouring from the stage door after Sunday night’s performance, and if she looked a bit more worn down than the rest, well, she had had the lion’s share of work to do, now hadn’t she? (Not that it was about that, but it made a good excuse.) She’d slept, deep and dreamless, for twelve hours. She’d awakened feeling less fragile and more capable -- before she could second-guess herself, a message had been sent off to Aspel: Do you still want me to come today? She’d breathed a small sigh of relief when assent had come. Well, one way or another, it couldn’t be worse than the last time, now could it? And if it was… Hands trailed over the bracelet around her wrist. She supposed that if things were catastrophic, there was at least one person she could call. Still, it would be a lie to say she hadn’t been hesitant as she made her way over, carefully dressed and coiffed as though Aspel hadn’t seen her before in every possible state of disarray. But the bright colors, the time she had taken at the mirror, had calmed her enough that she could smile with projected confidence as she rang the bell. As Aspel had been anxiously waiting when the bell came she instantly startled out of her pensive state. Eyes wandered over to the door taking into consideration the series of events that were surely to unfold this eve. Her brain, while hazed, suddenly began to work surprisingly fast considering all of the possible options of this eve. Certainly, if the smith were to become too ... Ill... Ari would understand if she asked for some time alone, no? And if not..... She tried not to think about the fact that she still wasn't sure if she could handle being touched, especially after not having to deal with, well... Anyone... In the past several days. Though.. The bell had been rung and she could consider the pros and cons later, now couldn't she? A pause was taken before she pushed off from the counter, moved towards the door and unlocked it. She just had to pretend she was the person she'd appeared to be before, correct? There was a pause as the door was pulled open, Aspel standing in the way to entry for a moment longer than she would have normally before a forced smile came to her lips. "Good eve." A beat, and then she stepped back pulling the door open to allow the other woman entry into the shop, and really her life. The reticence of Aspel’s smile was not missed, nor, in fact, was the weary hesitance of her posture. Ari had not exactly been intending to launch herself into the other woman’s arms, but even had that been her plan, she might have reconsidered here. The distance that had risen between them was difficult to qualify, but… it did make greetings a challenge. Among other things; it was probably best to start with greetings for now. “Good evening.” And so Ari entered the shop when invited, not commenting on the disturbingly loose way the familiar shirt hung around Aspel’s torso (she saw the same sort of change when she was foolish enough to glance in mirrors, didn’t she?). Instead, as she passed, she reached out, found Aspel’s hand with hers, and squeezed lightly, ready to draw back if even such a simple contact was unwelcome. But the touch had a grounding influence on her, at least, the shape of Aspel’s calloused hand familiar in hers. “I am very glad to see you,” she said, no artifice in the words. “Thank you,” she added, then clarified, softly, “for waiting.” After all, hadn’t she told Aspel to let her know when she wanted to see her… then declined the very first invitation? With good reason, but still. It took a moment to respond to the touch - it wasn’t as hard as she’d thought it would be -, eyes falling down to the hand holding hers before fingers shifted, moving to very delicately wrap around the other woman’s in turn. Aspel would have to be careful not to break anything - or would she? - otherwise the smith might find herself with another thing to feel distressed about more so than she already had. No words were offered in response initially, a long pause before Aspel’s gaze shifted upwards, blinking for a moment - the faintest confusion on her face - at the thanks before Ari finished. As soon as all words were out however, the confusion cleared, brows furrowing for a brief moment before the look fell away into a sort of understanding. “Ah.” There was something that felt… Normal. Perhaps, for the first time in weeks. “There is nothing to apologize for.” A beat. Aspel still felt off, she still wasn’t fully speaking like herself. Her thoughts were only half here, and half… Somewhere else. But… Where? Where were her thoughts? Where were her words? Where…. did they go from here? At least she was getting complete sentences, Ari told herself. And she’d gotten a favorable response to the hand squeeze, too. Maybe these were very small things, but at least they were something (and really, anything was better than her last visit here had been). “I suppose,” she said, aiming for normalcy herself, “you have become quite accustomed to waiting after all this time.” And it had been… quite a long time, actually, hadn’t it? Ari had spent many years being perpetually late, and Aspel had clearly forgiven these countless instances. Strange, how a new perspective changed how she looked at such simple things. Better not to dwell on that, she supposed. Aspel appeared to be half present at best, and this wasn’t the time to contemplate her own complicated emotions, or what Aspel’s might be, or whether she really wanted to know, and what difference it could possibly make (or, in fact, what either of them ought to do about it). So instead, she simply maintained her smile and the grasp of her hand, substituting acting for actual ease as she had been doing in so many life situations lately, and asked, “Would you like to go upstairs? I am uncertain what your plans were -- before I rescheduled them.” A pause before she added, a bit hesitantly, “I thought I might play for you, if you think you might enjoy that.” A harmless offer, surely, a return to normalcy without the added complexity of intimacy of the physical sort. A rather weak smile rose, one so faintly there it might not classify at all, but still, it was there regardless of herself. “And you to mine.” A pause as some unplaceable emotion briefly ripped through her mind before being shoved away. “Though I suspect I have gotten better about it since joining Council.” Which was true, her historical lateness, her… Trouble arriving on time for much of anything in life since she’d come to Emillion had taken a sharp turn towards responsible in the course of the past year. It still felt a bit… Odd. Though admittedly, she tended to be selectively late now, showing up on the later side of acceptable for just about anything that wasn’t business. The question earned a muted quirking of brow. “I do believe the floor would be rather uncomfortable, and those chairs were really only purchased to keep customers comfortable long enough to wait to pick up their finished pieces if it was a busy day.” Secrets of her trade. The smile was a little stronger now, even if the conversation felt hard, it also felt…. Better. Later, she’d probably struggle again, after Ari left but… For now that wasn’t the case. “I,” a pause, brows furrowing a bit as she seemed to be considering what was going on with the question, “had none of note.” A painfully honest admission, which once again she sent herself internally railing with before the complicated feelings were shoved off. “I would,” Ari’s hand remained overly cautiously held, and her tone for the first time since the bard had arrived took on a much more… Personally invested, and vaguely pleased tone. “Very much so, yes.” With that, her free hand gestured for the bard to lead the way upstairs. “Best not make people too comfortable, else they’ll never leave?” Ari said, a bit amused despite herself. “You are not running a tavern, after all. Well, I am glad to be saved from the chairs though I have… some fondness for your counter.” The joke came out easily, with barely any thought, though the way she looked down and bit her lip instants after saying it did rather imply that she hadn’t meant to say it. “Music,” she said determinedly. “I have some for you. Perhaps… the cello, next time. I was too tired to carry it today.” She had made do with the lute, having not yet replaced her guitar and not feeling nearly adventurous enough for anything more challenging. If she was meant to play for an hour or two -- and if the silence descended, it was likely she would feel compelled to do just that -- it ought to be simple. “We’ll make do today,” she said, leading her way to the stairs and up. The room… still smelled a bit stale, the acrid tang of smoke lessened but present. She wrinkled her nose a moment but didn’t comment. Maybe Mag was coming over and smoking? She truly didn’t know the other woman well enough to say. Though… Aspel had mentioned she’d changed the locks to keep Mag from visiting… Odd indeed. Perhaps there might be a moment to ask but… not now. “The… couch?” she offered at last. Plenty of room for two people and a lute, however cozy they chose to get -- or, as the case might be, not. “You would be surprised how many would be happy to attempt to micromanage my work if they did not have…” A pause as she looked for the right word. “a deterrent of sorts.” People got very particular about custom orders, and, well she didn’t specifically blame them considering the gil spent but… It also made completing the job much harder at that. Aspel wasn’t here to take on apprentices, she was here to get a job done when it came to things of that nature. Though, the next comment, and successive reaction would not go missed. Aspel’s mouth opened, as if to speak, but honestly, she was unsure what words to say that may offer comfort, or amusement, instead she offered. “I must admit I will be forlorn when it eventually will need to be replaced. It has served me well.” A brief flash of smile was given before allowing Ari to lead the way into their next topic, and location. Nothing more than a minor comment of confirmation was given as it did not feel that more was needed. A brief nod of her head confirmed, her free hand waving towards the mentioned piece of furniture, and the other which had managed to still hold Ari’s finally let go as she spoke, her words not negative in any sort, and mostly in agreement with the assessment as it had been made. “As you wish.” It took Ari no thought at all to settle, as she often did, near the edge of the couch but not right in the corner, leaving room enough for her hostess to settle close or far according to her thoughts on the matter. She was reminded suddenly of the dance they had done for many months leading up to the resolution of sorts that they had at last fallen into, those times that Ari had attempted to allow the proper distance, just in case, because she didn’t quite know what to do. Here, again, in an entirely different way -- she didn’t know what to do. So she busied herself with her instrument case and the tightening of lute strings as she waited for Aspel to settle and by so doing set the tone for the interaction, as Ari herself still had little concept of what that ought to be. “You will be pleased to know that we managed to get through all four shows of opening weekend without tragedy -- aside from the one playing out on stage,” she said, choosing work as a default, safe subject. “I was wondering for a time whether we would manage to open at all, though the extra shows crammed into the next few weekends might make me consider the wisdom of a career change.” Aspel, on the other hand, would wait a moment, watching Ari as she moved, as she settled. However, obviously, she couldn't let too long pass otherwise questions might arise, a curiosity in life was something they both shared quite well. Shifting, the door was locked, and the smith moved over, settling down into the couch not too close, yet not as far away as she might like. There was a notion to cling to the side of the couch, to keep them separate, as their worlds were likely soon to become but… At the same time, Aspel knew if she were to play a game of pretending that nothing had happened, she had to play it right. Enough distance for Ari to comfortably play - really a slight amount more than that given - but not being physically set apart from the interaction completely either. It was the only way to go. "I am glad to hear such." Of course, Ari carried on, and Aspel gave a slight nod. "It would be a pity if you did, even if the work is arduous." “I’d miss it eventually,” Ari said, tone carefree. “I always do. But the temptation is there all the same. Pity -- in the end, I almost always seem to choose to be responsible. Even if I need to be pushed into it once in awhile.” Hands on strings now, Ari began to pluck, a soft, unassuming tune. A folk song from home, once sung by nomads, it was said. She chose it for simplicity, to warm her hands and distract her mind. This awkward, uncertain feeling would be suffocating otherwise. She let the quiet stretch, though, offering nothing more than the soft notes and her company. After all, was this not what she had been asked for? And if Aspel wanted to talk to her… A thought only slightly more terrifying than the consideration that she also might not, that she might prefer the distance. (That some way, somehow, Ari had revealed too much of her own turmoil -- or perhaps it was really just the fact that the one time she had been really needed, she had been unable to do enough.) The music was simply allowed to be there, to be a filler between their lives, and worlds. As always, Ari played beautifully, however, Aspel couldn’t help but find her normal reactions made distant in their own way. She did not fully give her attention over to the song, even if it did - in its own regard - wash over her. The music did not touch as deep, did not penetrate directly to her heart as it had before. Had she become more ill than she’d thought? Only after some time had passed did Aspel pause, eyes wandering over the fireplace mantle - the pictures of Rictor turned face down as they were more painful to look over than to not see - before wandering to the kitchen. “Did you wish for coffee?” “Hmm?” Ari said, not pausing the playing (one song into the next, a backdrop to her thoughts and unvoiced feelings). This coffee, she thought sadly, would not follow the fine tradition of growing cold on the table while they were otherwise occupied. Perversely, because she would be given leeway to drink it, she didn’t want it. “Not unless you want some,” she answered. The music took a turn for the melancholy -- a variation on one of Juliana’s arias. A love song (hers) in its way, as if her hands were speaking where her lips did not. A fanciful thought, utterly pointless, really. They had spoken on the network almost from the heart, or from someplace close -- in person they were this strange facsimile of what they had been. The words came, quiet and unbidden: “I’m worried about you.” She looked down at her hands as she said it, the melody flowing even if her speech was stilted. I wish I could offer something more than a few simple songs and my company, she did not say. That she wanted to was trouble enough -- always, in the past, when things had even hinted at complications, she had turned to run. Standing her ground was unfamiliar and hard and she didn’t like it, but where could she go? “I don’t think I’m the only one,” she added, thinking of Drake’s quiet concern, acknowledging that Mag was probably none too pleased (though Ari was not yet in a place to care about Mag’s discomfort). “Is there… anything I can do… to help?” she ventured at last, knowing the answer was probably no but asking anyway. “Ah, no.” A pause. “I believe not.” Though she was beginning to have a obscene desire for a drink. Certainly, she had not emptied her liquor cabinets yet. A glance was given to the kitchen again. “Though, I do wish for something else.” Shifting Aspel stood, moving towards the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of spirits and appropriate glass, the drink was poured there so the alcohol content - obscenely high - would not be able to be made comment about before she began to move back into the living room once more. Then came Ari’s words, and a sip of the spirits was taken to beat down an urge rising up of what precisely, she did not know. “I will be well.” It was the best she could offer. “It…” Another sip of the overly strong liquid. “Will..” A swish of the glass, her eyes not moving to land on the bard at all as she leaned in the doorway between the two rooms. “simply take a bit of time.” Though, the other woman’s inquiry seemed to both stiffen and deflate Aspel all at once. What was there to be done…? “I fear I know not. It is an illness that I have not encountered before.” Another pause, and another mouthful of the foul liquid. “But it seems to ease with time.” Almost a month at this point. She hadn’t fully been counting, yet at the same time, how could anyone not? “I am beginning to suspect,” Ari said, just a little sadly, “that all my life’s lessons in patience at once will be taught by you.” Because of course, if Aspel said it would take time, then it seemed the most natural thing in the world to grant it. It was easier to wait than to do certain other things, anyway -- though her own helplessness grated a bit. Finally, Aspel’s eyes dragged up and away from the glass in her hand to land on Ari, a definite uncertainty crossing her face. What in all of Faram’s name was going on here? A pause was taken as brows furrowed, whatever music still played carrying on in the background for a moment as Aspel attempted to contemplate what precisely was going on. “Pardon?” “Don’t worry about it,” Ari said, summoning a small smile to replace the sigh she might have liked to release. “It is only that I seem to be constantly going against my word that I am terribly impatient when it comes to you.” One exception of very many. And that was all she intended to say about that. Another song came to an end, and she shied away from the topic at hand and back to something more solidly innocuous: “Have you any requests for this evening’s impromptu concert? I can try to fulfill them, at least.” The smith would fall silent, eyes dipping down to her fingers playing against the glass. Even though she probably hadn’t gotten past a quarter of the glass being drank, a light buzz had started to settle in. It was an interesting thing to state, and wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed Aspel’s mind before as well. A low thoughtful hum was caught in her throat for a moment before Ari inquired regarding requests. Another pause, no answer given to Ari’s question before Aspel pulled away from the doorframe crossing the distance to stand in front of the bard. The glass of spirits discarded on the coffee table without much thought before shifting, and bringing fingers up to pull the other woman’s chin up - as gently as she could manage - before bending forward, and in for a kiss. Ari had realized what was coming before it happened -- it was hard not to, with Aspel still acting as though she might somehow break her -- and she’d had a moment to wonder if this was really wise, to be equal parts hesitant and anticipatory but -- She answered the kiss, not unwillingly, though where she had somehow expected the taste of honey and wine -- she had not bothered giving Aspel’s glass more than a cursory glance, and she was the last to judge anyone for drowning their problems in alcohol -- instead there was bitterness and… She pulled back after a moment, though not terribly far, her brows knitting in obvious concern. What she hadn’t intended to ask was blurted out, just like that: “Have you been smoking?” Aspel slowly broke away, letting her face shift away from the other woman’s while fingers remained in place, but clearly ready to be moved away at even the slightest hint of displeasure on anyone’s part. Though, the question that came caused her to pause, and blink. Briefly, the smith was almost uncertain how to respond but…. “I…” Her brow furrowed, not completely moved back from Ari - her fingers still hooked under the bard’s chin - but not close enough to make anymore contact easy unless the other woman leaned forward. “Yes.” Though, the word almost came out a confused question, even if she somehow, amazingly, managed to assure it wouldn’t sound quite that way regardless of herself. What looked a great deal like hurt passed over Ari’s face quickly, replaced immediately after with worry. She had looked for cigarettes, that one time, when she’d suspected, but… “I… really wish you wouldn’t,” she said at last, struggling not to simply proclaim, don’t as though such a childish demand could be met with anything but more confusion. But even a kiss she had, in fact, been quite looking forward to (apprehension or not) had been marred by the vile and ashy aftertaste that even what appeared to be incredibly potent liquor couldn’t quite mask. “I don’t -- is it to help you sleep? Relax?” She didn’t see how it could but surely there was a better method? Even potions and tonics seemed preferable in her mind’s eye. Confusion flickered by more so, a clear lack of understanding present at Ari’s own response. The confusion dipped away to an attempt to process what was going on at this point, yet, it would be clear on her face that she was struggling to keep up. Shifting back onto her haunches finally Aspel’s thumb brushed over Ari’s cheek before pulling away, and once more keeping her hands to herself. Wetting her lips, eyes fell away from the bard, pondering over the answer to the question posed to her. “It…. Is…. Relaxing.” A pause. “Yes.” Another pause. “It does not help me sleep however.” The thought was rolled around in her head for a moment more. “I have been smoking after work, to… Help.” Her sentence was cut short with her throat tightening for a moment. A hard swallow helped to clear the lump from her throat. “To help me keep myself collected.” Aspel’s hand, however, was grasped by Ari as she pulled away, squeezed quite a bit harder than it had been previously, at the door. “Is there… no other effective means of keeping… collected?” she asked, her tone a bit entreating despite her best efforts. She could not deny Aspel her (she suspected relative) sanity but… surely there had to be some other way. Brows furrowed at the question, and… What Aspel was starting to begin to realize was possibly a request. “I….” Aspel was trying her best to put the pieces together, and at the same time consider if there were any alternatives to the possible situation at hand as things currently stood. “I….” The smith’s jaw shifted as if it would assist her in working through whatever there was for her to possibly puzzle out. “Suspect I could find… Another means.” Though, what that means was right now, honestly, Aspel hadn’t a clue. “I wish you would,” Ari said, a little relieved despite herself. What would she have done if not? She still followed her former mentor’s other rules to the letter, as though he might pop around a corner at any time and commence with his often bizarre and always unpleasant idea of punishment -- by his estimation, she ought to be walking out the door right now and not returning here until the walls had been scrubbed down and the occupant reformed. She stayed in her seat. “I’m sorry,” she said, somewhat sheepishly. “I have… rather strong opinions on this particular matter. Demonstrably. And I want you to be well.” She still hadn’t released Aspel’s hand -- looking down at where her fingers were clasped around the other woman’s, she said, “I suppose you think I am acting very strange.” Which, in all honesty, she was -- for reasons quite aside from Aspel’s sudden taste for cigarettes, though she would play it off as nothing but that if she had to. “Ah.” Aspel’s jaw tightened a bit, brow still furrowed as it was probably as clear as it could be made without directly being said to her at this time that Ari did not want for her to continue smoking. A pause was taken after the bard carried on with her apology. “I…” A pause again was taken as the smith attempted to find her words, to figure out what to say or do about all of this. “I…. Do a bit, yes.” Another pause. “I suspect I can see why it may be troublesome.” Honestly, she’d never thought about it before, and even now, she was struggling to try to understand, even if it felt like any other day - when she wasn’t plagued by an illness of the mind - it may have been obvious. “I suppose it is because I am feeling… rather strange,” Ari said. What an understatement that was! But there was really nothing else to say, or at the very least nothing else that she realistically could say. She gave Aspel’s hand a final squeeze before pulling back to return to her lute. The interrupted music started again, though she played no song in particular, the harmonies wandering just as her mind wandered. As always, music was easier than feelings. “Talk to me?” she asked, after a moment had passed. “About anything,” she clarified. It doesn’t have to be important. What could be said to such a... Queerly vague statement? If she confirmed, well... That didn't feel like it completely fit, and if she denied, well... That didn't entirely fit either. Instead a wetting of lips, a brief nod was earned. Better to do that than nothing at all. Though, then came the request to speak, and her heart leapt into her throat, a nervous tightening of her chest before the rest came out. That was a mild relief, yet at the same time, now what was she supposed to talk about? "I am going to be hiring a new runner for the shop." It came out without much thought, the easiest, and perhaps most relevant thing she could speak of without getting into anything too deep. "I have missed it terribly, and the guild needs weaponry repairs." Silence again, the faintest of smiles rising to her face. "I could carry on regarding smithing techniques, but I believe once long ago you instructed me it may put you to sleep." “You’ll enjoy getting into the forge again, I’m sure,” Ari said. It had been… a very long time since she’d encountered Aspel covered in soot. But she’d always seemed to love it, far more than she loved the counciling, even if she did admirably at both... How exhausting, in Ari’s mind, to spend so much time at tasks that were done mostly out of duty! Though she suspected she might be uncommonly lucky in this sense -- she suffered no overwhelming sense of social responsibility, and the things she loved kept her quite adequately. “I’ll forgive any soporific effects this evening,” she said, with a small, soft smile. “I think we could both stand to... relax a little. Please consider this a once in a lifetime opportunity to expound upon the subject of steel folding to me, if that is your preferred topic.” “Indeed.” There was a certain level of relief in her voice at the idea. Honestly, the reason - in a large part - as to why Aspel had become a smith was to stay out of the public’s eye. To keep away from any troublesome situations, or questions, but with the guild in the state it had been… Well, that hadn’t been the reality required of her life. Besides, there was a definite appeal of a quiet life working with her hands, regardless of how much Aspel did indeed enjoy people. “Once in a lifetime you say?” A brow curiously rose. “Somehow, I feel as though I could corral you into such a talk again if I absolutely needed.” With that a soft smile rose, faint, but sincere, and it managed to stick longer than much of anything before. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be all right after all. Clearing her throat, Aspel shifted back, moving to sit on the floor to look up at Ari as she played. “It depends upon the material what the best technique is, and how many folds can be reasonably made without negative impact upon the metal, or if folds are needed at all. The better metals require little to no folding.” And so would the tale of sword making begin. |